


Beekeeper

by farseersfool



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon Compliant, Discussion of Rape, Gen, Kind of a character study, alternate POV, canon typical crappiness, discussion of abuse, mentions of self harm, no graphic depictions just talking about them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7709644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farseersfool/pseuds/farseersfool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David Wymack drives to Columbia after Kevin calls him from the Hemmick's house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beekeeper

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a Keaton Henson song I associate with Andrew.
> 
> I didn't really mean to write this but I couldn't stop wondering what was going through Wymack's head during _That Part_ of The Raven King.

The only sound was the hum of the engine, edging into a dull roar as he pressed harder on the pedal, going just slow enough that he wouldn't be pulled over. Probably.

It wasn't nearly enough to drown out his thoughts.

David had gotten the call a half-hour ago, in the middle of his dinner. Kevin's voice on the other end of the line had been desperate, an edge to it that bordered on panic. He'd only heard that tone a few times before, and almost always in conjunction with Riko or the Ravens.

“ _We're in Columbia,”_ he'd said, after David had managed to calm him down to the point of speaking coherently. “ _Andrew's been hurt. He's not okay.”_

There had been more, details offered in fitful bursts. He'd sounded like the scene was indelibly burned into his mind, but like, at the same time, he didn't want to believe it.

David felt the same, as the reality of the situation sank in.

He'd grabbed his car keys almost the moment Kevin had started talking, and had the door locked and gotten into his car, dinner abandoned, by the time he hung up, citing a need to call the police. David didn't even get a chance to rebuke him for not calling them first, as the line went dead.

His next call had been to Abby as he pulled out of his apartment's parking lot, and he'd heard the muted jangle of her own car keys almost the moment he explained what was going on. Then, a text to Dan, paused at a stoplight on the way to the highway, a simple _'Practice canceled tomorrow. Let them know,'_ and the ding of her reply mere moments later. The unread message indicator was still flashing on the corner of his phone, where it sat abandoned in the passenger seat.

But since then, there had been nothing. Just the engine, and the uneasy company of his own thoughts.

David liked to play the gruff old man, the insensitive coach with no sentimentality, but he'd bleed for any of his Foxes. He _did_ bleed to see them hurt, to know that they had _been_ hurt, before making their ways onto his team. To know that they were still hurting.

But they were survivors, his Foxes. Both in the sense that they were fighters, always getting back up after life knocked them down, and in the other meaning of the word. The one that was so often conflated with _victim._ He knew that not a single one of them would stand to be called a victim. No, survivor was a much better term.

David Wymack knew better than most that that kind of life left marks, visible and psychological.

There was Allison, and her fierce, blunt manner, that determination not to be anyone that she wasn't.

Renee, and that brittle porcelain smile, a sweet veneer over something dark, something that he been hurt and had dealt hurt in return.

Kevin, and his anxiety over Riko and the Moriyamas, the way he tried to replace all the blood in his veins with alcohol at every opportunity. Not to mention the scar on his left hand and the dark, perfect number “2” on his cheek.

Aaron, with his surly silences, his passive attitude that masked a fathomless anger, at his brother, at his circumstances, at the entire world.

Nicky, who had put aside his own life and happiness for two cousins who hardly seemed to care, let alone show gratitude, after being let down and hurt again and again by his own parents.

Neil, who was always poised on the balls of his feet, ready to run at the slightest provocation. Who flinched away from David but started fights with Ravens. Who was covered with years and years of scars under those drab, too-big clothes he wore—Abby had told him, but it had only confirmed what he'd already suspected about the kid.

Some of them, at least, seemed like they were starting to heal.

Matt's track marks would be visible for years to come, but he was far from the drawn, cagey thing he'd been the year before before.

Dan's obsessive need to prove herself had been tempered into dedication and confidence; she was more than a dancer. She was a captain, the only woman in that role in class I exy, and she deserved every bit of respect that came with that title, whether or not she got it.

But it wasn't easy to go through hell, and to keep going.

Another thing that David knew better than most was that surviving wasn't always pretty. It wasn't always a linear progression from “fucked up” to “perfectly functional.” It wasn't always tearfully talking with loved ones about what had happened. It wasn't always 12-step programs and support groups. It wasn't always cringing, fear, and crying, and the sort of passive behaviors that people tended to think of when they thought of victims. It was another reason that the word was so _wrong,_ at least for his kids _._

Sometimes surviving was anger, flashes of violence. Sometimes it was withdrawn silence. Sometimes it was cruel words, twisted logic, a sense of justice that might seem extreme to anyone else. Hurt them before they hurt you. Take matters into your own hands, because you can't trust anyone else to help.

From the moment David met Andrew Minyard, he'd pegged him as a survivor. He'd known it before ever meeting the kid. His entire childhood in the system, then those years in juvie, and the reunion with his twin brother and mother and the rest of a family who hardly deserved the name. No one could go through all that without getting hurt a few times.

He just hadn't realized the extent of it.

David glanced away from the road and over at his phone. The light still flashed with Dan's unread message. What was he going to tell her? What _should_ he tell her? How much of this information was relevant to the team, and the season? And how much was Andrew's business?

Was it his place to tell the team what Kevin has told him? That Andrew, someone he knew some of them barely considered human, had been hurt, badly, had been raped, and by family?

David himself had trouble wrapping his head around the situation. Andrew Minyard was a boy with a knife of a smile, with quick, cutting words, and surges of violence, with court-ordered mania and stone-cold sobriety. He was a survivor, of course, with all the ugliness that came with it. David had never seen the skin of his forearms under those armbands he always wore, but he had a pretty good idea of what he'd find there. He'd seen the way that Andrew went out of his way to avoid contact with older men, not the same sort of flinching panic Neil had shown, but still a noticeable reaction. He'd just never known exactly what kind of abuse Andrew had lived through.

And Aaron, distant, resentful Aaron, who had taken up a racket in his brother's defense and killed the man who was hurting him. Jesus, the press was going to have a field day with that.

He felt bad for thinking that almost the moment it had crossed his mind. Aaron, a nineteen year old _kid_ had just killed a man. Righteously? Absolutely, in David's opinion. And he was sure it would stand up in court, too, but that kind of thing took a toll on a person. How would he handle it?

He was so caught up in this train of thought that he almost missed the exit for Columbia, having to move over two lanes and cut off an SUV to make it.

The blaring of their horn followed him down the exit ramp, but he hardly paid attention.

He pulled into the parking lot of a roadside drug store and fished his phone from the floor of the passenger seat, where it had fallen during his maneuvering to make the exit.

He had dropped everything to get here when Kevin had called, but now that he was in the city he wasn't sure where he needed to be, and he desperately needed a cigarette. He read through the messages he'd missed during the drive as he walked into the store.

From Dan: “ _ok. what happened???”_

From Abby: “ _I've let Betsy know. She's on her way.”_

From Matt: _“everything ok coach?”_

Then a string of them from Kevin, spaced out over the past half hour.

“ _Police arrested aaron”_

“ _when are you going to be here??”_

“ _going to police station w nicky”_

“ _andrew @ER. And neil”_

David called Abby again as he walked into the store, relaying Kevin's information. She would go to the station, they decided, and he would go to the hospital. It was for the best. He knew the police had had to arrest Aaron, but he wasn't sure he couldn't stop himself from yelling at them about the injustice of it.

He continued to fume silently through the aisle of generic clothing. His mind kept conjuring images. Aaron, behind bars for defending his brother from a rapist. Nicky, shrunken into himself, the betrayal he must have felt, having gone to try to reconcile with his parents. Andrew, covered in blood and bruises and other things he didn't want to consider. Neil and Kevin, hollow-eyed, having seen so much more than kids their age should have had to.

He could only do anything about one of those, he thought as he picked clothes off the racks, his motions jerky with restrained anger, but he chose thoughtfully. Dark colors, soft materials, nothing tight or constricting. He took them to the counter and paid for them, and a pack of cigarettes.

The cashier must have taken note of the tightness in his face, because she didn't try to make small talk with him, just bagged his items and let him go.

He didn't start his car immediately, taking a few moments to reply to the texts he'd gotten, letting Kevin know that Abby would meet them at the station, a text to Neil that he probably wouldn't read to let him know he was on his way there. He sat, looking at Dan's text for a little while longer.

Finally he said, simply, _'Andrew's in the hospital. Can't say more now.'_

Maybe later he would have figured out how much the team needed to know. Maybe later he would figure out _how_ to even say it.

But this was now, and his Foxes needed their coach.

The engine roared into life, and David Wymack started down the road to the hospital.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, please let me know if I missed any huge mistakes. 
> 
> Next time I write about these characters I swear I'm going to let them be happy (at least as happy as they can be).


End file.
